


Off

by ShahHira



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:57:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4605846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahHira/pseuds/ShahHira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something was a little off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Off

**Author's Note:**

> Because I’m going back to college soon. Yes, I have dreams like this.
> 
> This was intended to be silly, but then I thought more and more and I decided to make it trippy. I have an outline in mind for a sequel, but it still has holes and I'm thinking of scrapping it because I think I can come up with something even better than what I have in mind now.
> 
> Towards the end, it may sound rough. That's because it is! I wrote the first 3 1/2 scenes in one day and it came out pretty good in the first draft which is totally not my style but hey, inspiration and motivation hit hard.

Jack shut his laptop, rubbing at his eyes. The droning of students filling in the lecture hall was almost soothing enough to make his eyelids droop. He’d love to meet the person whose bright idea was to make all of his mandatory classes at eight in the morning. Then again if he had done his physics homework at a more reasonable time, he wouldn’t be dozing off so easily.

Jack checked the clock. Almost time for class to start and even though he went through the trouble of saving seats for them, his friends still weren’t here. He fiddled with the ring on his pinky finger lethargically. They probably couldn’t be bothered to heave themselves out of bed, not even for poor Jack’s sake who was oh-so-tempted to melt into the soft chair.

But he dragged himself up and got out a notebook and pen – he was an old-fashioned type of guy – in preparation for the class that he had long since given up on and half-considered just getting up and leaving. But then he remembered that a degree gave you a job, and a job gave you money, and money… money got you videogames.

The class began and lo and behold, Jack was nodding off. His pen came in and out of view and he was slightly worried he was going blind until he realized it was just his eyes fighting to stay awake. _Might as well give in,_ Jack surrendered sleepily and he rested his head on his arms, not caring that anyone saw.

“HEY! You there! No sleeping when _I’m_ teaching, ya hear?”

A booming voice echoed through the hall and Jack jerked awake. “Jesus-!” he exclaimed, grogginess still in his voice. It felt like he had only just put his head down. His eyes alighted on the podium up front.

“I’ll be damned if I let some piddly Irishman do shit-all in _my_ lecture…”

Jack scrubbed his eyes. Then once more.

“Because Warfstache don’t take shit from _nobody_!”

There, where his professor should have been, Wilford Warfstache stood in all his glory: dressed in an old-timey pinstripe suit, with an intricately carved cane in one hand and, of course, wearing the signature pink mustache. He was staring straight at Jack. And he looked very angry.

Taken aback, Jack stammered out, “What in the world-”

“Could ye jus’ _shaddup_ , ye paddy piece of shite, I’m tryin’ ta listen ‘ere,” a familiar over-exaggerated Irish accent shouted into Jack’s right ear and he jumped. He whirled in that direction…

…And straight into the gaze of a very annoyed Mark. Jack blinked slowly, mouth agape. He stared at Mark, then looked back at Warfstache, then at Mark again, who was wearing quite a grumpy expression. Jack was at a loss for words.

Mark somehow got even more offended. “Now ye be getting an eyeful of _this_ ,” he said while furiously waving his hands up and down his body, “afta ye wouldn’t stop yer jabberin’? I swear on me mum, I’m gonna call on me boys and splatter ye all across the Cliffs of Dover!” he threatened as he cracked his knuckles.

At that, Jack finally found his voice. “Whoa, Mark, relax…”

Unfortunately, that was all he managed to say until another voice popped up, “Hi! What’s your name? Wanna be friends?”

Jack twisted to the seat directly behind him. He was greeted with the delightful sight of yet another Mark, this one’s face merely inches away from his. He was sporting a maniacally toothy grin. It seemed to be uncomfortably plastered to his face. “My name’s Mark! Wanna play Rocket League?”

“Uh, no thanks-”

“Let me sniff _your_ butthole, Jackaboy…”he added, turning abruptly suggestive, accompanied with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“ _What_? I- no!” Jack recoiled.

“Jaaaack, why are you so _mean_ to me?” a mournful voice cried out. Jack faced the person to his left. This Mark perfected the sad puppy-dog eyes. Coupled with the large physique, he almost looked cartoonish in his sadness. “Why do you keep yelling and cursing at me?” He even gave a little pout.

Jack could barely process what was going on. He looked around for some semblance of normalcy and slowly became aware that the whole room was filled with clones of Mark all… staring… at… him. His stomach dropped sickeningly as he panned the room.

Grabbing his backpack in one swift motion, he leapt out of his seat and ran to the lecture hall doors. He could only take two steps when he felt a hand gripping his ankle, sending him face-first onto the floor. He wiggled around to his back and looked down at the hand that only grew tighter. Yet another Mark gazed up at him into his eyes, looking more like a zombie hungering for his brain. Then Jack looked up.

A whole mass of Mark clones surrounded the downed Irishman, all glaring at him from above. Jack had never felt such a paralyzing fear. He couldn’t move a muscle. The circle of light grew smaller and smaller as Marks of all types piled on top, to the side and even under Jack.

The last thing Jack thought of was how happy the shippers would be that he was both the top _and_ bottom with Mark.

______

Jack awoke with a start. He immediately wished he hadn’t with the way his neck protested to the sudden move.

“Ow…” He massaged at his neck. He had fallen asleep on his chair. Again. He looked the time. Three AM.

Letting out a tired groan, Jack roughly scrubbed at his face. He squinted through the glow of his computer monitor, feeling the last of the haziness disappearing. The video he was currently editing was minimized in favor of a vlog Mark had uploaded.

“What a crazy dream…” he muttered, recalling the details. It wasn’t often he got dreams – or was that a nightmare, Jack pondered offhandedly – as vivid as that, or ones that he remembered after waking. He was hanging out _way_ too much with the weirdo.

He looked up again at his screen. He should at least finish the video he was watching then go back to editing, which looked to be a Reading Your Comments video. He looked back at his door and saw that his setup was still there. Jack grinned. He got up and stretched, took a sip of soda he had on his desk and brought his chair into position. He had an idea.

“So I had this dream…”

______

He pushed the ‘end recording’ button and sat back in his chair. As soon as he started talking, Jack decided not to include this into the end of the video he was currently working on but rather send it to just Mark. The community’s reactions might be a bit much to handle. He gave a soft laugh, imagining how crazy they’d get if he uploaded this.

He brought his chair back to his desk and sat down once again, sending off the video to Mark with the caption: _meant to post this online, changed my mind. Have a laugh!_ He did a quick calculation; it was evening time over there, so he should see it and reply back soon enough.

_Should get a snack,_ Jack thought and he made to get up. However, something on his desk caught his eye. Jack peered around the side of his monitor behind his glass of half-empty soda. There sat a wooden picture frame.

“Hmm?” Odd. The only things he kept here were Sam, his hat and a few collectibles. Curious, he reached around and brought the object in front of him.

It was a picture of Mark and Jack together, big smiles on their faces. The background was sunny and showcased much greenery; it looked to be a park. Jack studied it carefully, brow furrowed in thought. He didn’t recognize this picture.

Jack was normally not the type of guy to keep physical copies of pictures; the important ones were all backed up in his computer anyway.

A fond memory surfaced up: the whole family was helping him move in his own apartment and his sister insisted on personalizing his space with a family photo. Jack had said he’d do it soon.

He grew somber. He still hadn’t gotten around to it. He didn’t know why. It’s not like his walls were packed floor to ceiling with his own memorabilia.

Jack looked back down to the photo. There was something… peculiar about the way they were standing. Their heads were leaning in quite close, the temples practically touching and their arms were positioned around each other’s backs, in an almost… intimate gesture.

Before he could analyze any further, the Skype calling tune sounded from his computer and shook Jack out of his musings. He raised an eyebrow. That was quicker than expected. He accepted the call.

“I must say, that’s one hell of a dream, but it’s nothing compared to the real deal!” Coming out loud and proud on the screen was Mark, flexing his muscles exaggeratedly. Based on the angle and level of shakiness, he seemed to be Skyping through his phone.

Jack rolled his eyes but was unable to hold back a laugh. “Glad you enjoyed that. I was considering putting it up on my channel, but,” he shrugged, “you know how the people get when we’re around each other.”

“What in the world were you doing that made you have that dream?”

“I was in the middle of editing videos when I opened up your latest vlog and fell asleep in my chair.”

“How’d that work out for ya?”

“Pain in the ass.”

Mark laughed heartily. “I say post it. It’s a nice insight on the slice of heaven you get to have every day,” he said while pointing to himself. “Make all the girls jealous.”

“Stop tooting your own horn, Fischbach,” he parried. “And anyways, I’m not gonna do it. Too much drama to deal with and all,” he waved it off.

“So what, everyone already knows that we’re the most romantic couple in the world,” Mark chuckled, waggling his eyebrows at Jack.  

Jack was amused by his antics, but he couldn’t help feel that there was an undertone of seriousness in that sentence. “My, we’re acting a bit flirty today, aren’t we?” he returned, batting his eyelashes.

“Hey, I’m right here if you need a buddy to practice on! Your game does need practice,” he poked at Jack.

The man had an uncanny ability to make him blush at the oddest moments. “By the way, I’m surprised you replied so soon. You’ve been busy these past few months.”

Mark gave him a confused look. “Whaddya mean? We just recorded a good few episodes of The Forest two days ago.”

“We… did?” He thought back. That can’t be true. He’d been cranking out solo games for a while now and he was far too busy these days to get to sit down and chat. Even now he knew he was procrastinating talking to Mark.

“And besides, I’ll always make time for you,” Mark said seriously. “You know that.”

Again, there was something… different in the way Mark spoke, an earnest quality coloring each word. “Yeah man… of course I know that…” Jack said carefully. He had a strange feeling about this.

The space behind Mark changed and Jack saw that he walked into his bedroom. Wanting to change the subject, Jack brought up the picture he found on his desk. “Can you tell me where this is from? I found it next to Sam.”

He let the camera focus onto the picture and Mark brightened considerably. “That was the first time you came to visit me in LA!” he exclaimed happily. “And we took that picture after you…” he paused, apparently collecting himself. He sounded so deliriously happy. “…I didn’t know you had this,” he said, breathless. He held a hand over his heart, looking overwhelmed.

“Wait,” Jack said urgently. “What did you say about…?” Things weren’t adding up.

“This was when we were walking back from lunch and we took a detour through this _beautiful_ park that I really wanted to show you, but more importantly…” Mark fell back onto his bed, his phone giving a bird’s eye view of himself. “…we were official.”

Jack looked straight into Mark’s eyes. He thought he heard wrong. “Excuse me?”

With a sheepish smile, he continued, “I knew you were hiding something because you had your hands behind your back. And then you gave me this,” he shifted a bit and brought his other hand in front of the camera. There was a ring. “What did you call it, a calda-, cildder-”

“A claddagh ring…” Jack trailed off, completely flabbergasted.

“Yeah! You said it represents friendship, love and loyalty,” Mark listed. “You also said that it was unoriginal and cheap as fuck because they’re everywhere in Ireland, but to me it was the most heartfelt gift you gave to me as your new boyfriend.”

_New boyfriend._

Mark noticed Jack’s lack of response. “Wait… you… don’t remember?” he asked coolly.

Jack slowly shook his head. “No, this never…” he took in a shaky breath. “This never happened…” He didn’t remember _any_ of this. Either that or he was losing his mind.

Jack stared intently at Mark’s blank face. Finally, Mark opened his mouth. “Oh. How disappointing.”

Shivers slithered down Jack’s spine when he heard the double layered voice come from his computer. He clutched at the picture frame, which was still in his hands. Visibly shaking, he was rooted to his chair… because he could’ve sworn that voice came from behind him.

He swiveled around, stopping where his bed was. Lying on his back, face up with the phone still aiming down was Mark. He was staring at Jack, eerily reminiscent of his dream.

Throwing the phone to the side, Mark got up and casually sauntered over to Jack. Ignoring the fact that Mark had just teleported from across the sea all the way to his bedroom, Jack stood and faced him, the frame clenched in his hand.

“I think you should remember something as meaningful as _me_ ,” the double voice reverberating around his room. “Or do you not care anymore?”

Just as Mark was within arm’s range, Jack swung his hand with the frame, aiming for the head.

The world fizzled into blackness.

______

Jack opened his eyes. And then squeezed them back shut.

“Ugh…” The glow of his iPad was too much for his darkness-adjusted vision and he tossed it aside, covering his face with his hands. His breathing was quick, his heart racing. Another crazy dream.

No, not another. A dream within a dream. Both of which felt too real.

He put his hands down and glanced around. Sitting up on his bed in the dark, it appeared that he had tried to go to sleep but then decided to watch something on his iPad. Somewhere in between, he had promptly fallen asleep.

He grabbed at the iPad and clicked it open. In spite of himself, he smirked at the video title: Impossible Let’s Plays.

That’s right. He wanted to spice things up a bit on his channel and get a few ideas rolling around in his brain. However, it seems he couldn’t be bothered given that he had conked out within the first video in the playlist.

Jack got up and stretched, thinking about his bizarre dreams with more than a small bit of trepidation. There was some Inception-level shit going on here. How did he know that what he was living right now wasn’t a dream? Just thinking about that made his head hurt.

Switching the lights on, he fumbled around for his phone. Seven AM. He grumbled irritably. Sleep was still threatening to bring his eyelids down. When would he ever get a normal night’s sleep in his own country…

For the third time that night, uneasiness began to settle in Jack’s stomach. He approached his desk with a cautious step. There was his hat, Sam and an empty glass that he presumably forgot to clean up. He scoured the surface, making sure nothing was unturned. No picture frame.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied. The need to call Mark to set this straight once and for all was mixed with the fear of the whole situation repeating itself.

Screw it. He needed to know.

Jack grabbed his iPad and sat rigid on his chair, feeling like he was embarking on a mission. Mark was definitely asleep; there was no way a morning person like him would be awake at two AM editing videos like Jack.

Call not connected. Another attempt. Call not connected. “Ye mad bastard, pick up…” he whispered intensely.

Finally, on the third try, it went through. “Mmm… m’hello…” Blackness showed on the screen. Voice only.

It was at this moment that Jack had no idea what to say.

He didn’t want to tell Mark about his dream, because he remembered how _that_ turned out – as illogical as that sounded, it did lead up to that point – but at the same time he need something to work on.

“Y’ello…” If he didn’t act fast, Mark would hang up. _Say something!_

“Do you love me?” Jack blurted out. _Genius_.

Silence. Then, “Jack you fucker, you got my attention.” Oh yeah. He definitely sounded more awake.

“Ah, that’s… not what I meant to say…” Jack attempted to amend.

“Well, what is it that you wanted to say?” The man sounded annoyed. And with good reason.

“Um…” Jack was suddenly hesitant. “I know this may sound random but… do you have any pictures of your family or… loved ones in your apartment?” _Like a framed photo of me and you?_

The line went silent for a minute. Jack was regretting his decision to call.

“Yeah, uh… yes, I do actually.” Poor guy must’ve been confused out of his mind. “One of my brother and me, my dad, my mom and… this old picture of me and my friends when we went to the city together…”

“That’s it?” Jack asked anxiously. “Nothing else?”

“Holy balls, man, you look miserable.”

The blackness shifted slightly, and Jack realized that the webcam actually _was_ on. He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously. “Never mind that. Say, have we done a collab of The Forest in the past few days?” his voice going high in an attempt to sound casual.

“No. As much as I’d like to, I’ve been too busy. Remember? Why’d ya ask?”

“Just…” How should he answer this? “…had a strange night.” _Brilliant_. _Now he_ definitely _won’t be worried._

More silence. He could feel the awkwardness from across the ocean.

“Do you miss your family, Jack?”

 The soft, almost tentative question came out of the blue. “Before you hang up, let me just say that I’ve been there and I’ll always lend an ear to you. Well, at least when I’m not sleeping, that is, but… heck even I still get that way sometimes. You know how much of a sentimental guy I am.”

It wasn’t what Jack expected, but it nevertheless warmed him. At least Mark hadn’t addressed his odd behavior. “Sorry for disturbing you,” Jack said quietly. “I’m an ass.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Sheets rustled. He was going back to sleep. “And Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“‘Course I do.” With that, Mark hung up.

Jack stared into his computer, unblinking. The past night was a rollercoaster of emotions and still something didn’t sit right in his gut. He looked out the window. The day had just begun.

For once in his life, Jack began his day at a sensible hour instead of going back to sleep like he normally would if he found himself awake at an ungodly hour like now. There was no question about it: he wouldn’t be falling sleep anytime soon. God, was he that in need of a break that his own body began to protest and conjure up crazy shit? He curled up in his chair tightly, face pressed into his legs.

Jack couldn’t shake the feeling that things were more than a little off.

______

Mark threw open the curtains, letting the fresh, morning sunlight into his room and smiled wide. He leaned out the window, witnessing the people in his neighborhood wake up and going about their business. It was his favorite time of day. His brain was clearest when the sun just peeked out of the horizon.

Today on his agenda was a simple yet daunting task: start his spring cleaning in the middle of August. Though he was only one man living in a fairly small apartment, his closet was beginning to overflow with stuff he didn’t know he even had. Seeing as it was the go-to place for him to dump anything which didn’t already have a rightful place in his apartment, he should’ve expected this sooner. Better late than never, he supposed.

Mark closed his eyes, basking in the sunlight. His mind wandered to the late night conversation he had with Jack. Upon waking up, he had already half-convinced himself it was part of an oddly realistic dream until he checked the call logs just to make sure.

Stepping away from the window, he put on soft classical music on his computer and got to work, a methodical and steady rhythm putting him in a trance. Cleaning up always felt good even if starting felt like the worst possible chore.

Nevertheless, the whole thing was strange. Mark was beginning to worry for the Irishman. On top of not operating on a normal sleep schedule, Jack was most definitely not a morning person so a call from him at that time meant trouble already, notwithstanding the questions that only got weirder with every passing minute. Mark should probably leave him alone for a good bit, give him some space: Jack would be too embarrassed anyway if Mark called up just to check up on him so soon.

Standing on his toes, Mark reached for the top shelf to pluck some items down when a bunch came loose and rained down onto the floor. He coughed at the mess; all that moving caused a lot of dust to be disturbed. He stooped down and picked up a navy blue sweatshirt. Since winter in LA was practically nonexistent, he hadn’t worn this in a long while. So when he checked the pockets carelessly, he didn’t expect to find anything.

Encountering a metallic, circular object, Mark dug it out and placed it in his palm. It was a ring.

It was like any old conventional ring, but how it ended up in his possession was a mystery. He ran a finger across the plain silver band, detecting a good deal of intricate indents on the inner edge. Peeking inside, he saw tiny etched lines all around. Whatever language it was – or even if it _was_ a language – he couldn’t recognize it. It certainly wasn’t his, and nobody that he knew of would keep – or, now that Mark was possession of it, lose – such an elegant piece of jewelry.

He gripped the ring for a moment then put it in his pocket. He’d ask around, maybe even go to a jewelers if he was feeling especially curious. But he was sure of one thing.

Things were a little… off.


End file.
